


i only want a boy who ain't afraid to love me

by unrestrainedpassion



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Confessions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, sometimes love is two idiots yelling compliments at each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 16:24:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15513789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unrestrainedpassion/pseuds/unrestrainedpassion
Summary: “Oh,” Keith says. “I didn’t think there’d be anyone else here.”Lance shrugs awkwardly. “I couldn’t sleep.”Keith nods once. “I know how that feels.” He walks slowly to where Lance is sitting and gestures to the space next to him. “Can I sit?”-Sort of an episode tag for the Season 4 finale.





	i only want a boy who ain't afraid to love me

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while listening to What I Need by Hayley Kiyoko ft Kehlani and I just kinda let it happen.
> 
> This is unbetaed.
> 
> EDIT: fixed some formatting issues!

Lance cannot sleep. In his mind, he replays the moment he realized Keith was going to ram Haggar’s ship with his own, risking his life to save countless planets. Grimacing, he turns over in bed and punches his pillow, trying to will his mind to calm down. 

Everything had worked out. Lotor had destroyed the cannon and prevented Keith from sacrificing himself. Keith is alive. So why is he so riled up?

He sighs. His mother had always told him to explore why he felt a certain way. She hadn’t let him bottle everything up and act tough. He misses her so intensely in that moment it makes him sit up in bed, hand over his chest trying to soothe an ache deep in his heart. She probably thinks he’s dead. His family… 

No point in trying to sleep now. He pulls on a shirt and considers pants before deciding that boxers are decent enough, given that it’s 4am and he’s unlikely to meet anyone on his way to the viewing deck. 

The viewing deck is his special place in the Castle, in a way. He doesn’t fool himself into thinking he’s the only one that knows it’s there, but he has never been in the room at the same time as anyone else. It’s spartan - a square, white walled room with one huge floor-to-ceiling window looking out into space. There is no furniture, but the smooth, tiled floor dips once as it approaches the window to form a bench-like seating area. He’s pretty sure if he bothered to figure out how to operate the single computer station on the wall to the right of the window, he could magnify and search the cosmos, actually learn a bit about this corner of the universe.

But Lance is never tempted. When he’s sitting on the floor of the viewing deck, knees drawn up to his chin, he is not thinking about _this_ corner of the universe.

What sci-fi movies never tell you, Lance thinks, is how empty space really is. That’s why it’s called _space_ \- not _stuff_. Sure, every once in a while they’ll fly past a nebula, and once they cruised straight through the strangest crystal asteroid field Lance has ever seen - but mostly there’s nothing but the darkest black Lance has ever seen beyond the window of the viewing deck.

And that’s the thing: so much of what Lance sees, hears, _experiences_ out here is insane. The bizarreness of his current situation hits him all at once sometimes, and then he’s five minutes away from curling up and hyperventilating wherever he is. He doesn’t want to become jaded, like maybe Keith is, but he’s also not… enjoying the experience the way Pidge and Hunk do. He’s not an engineering genius; alien tech is really cool when they’re in danger but it’s not his passion. So when Shiro and Allura are being Great Leaders on the bridge, and Pidge and Hunk are in the Castle labs experimenting and bonding, and Keith is tearing his way through all the training simulations Coran has unlocked for him, Lance just waits. He feels like a boulder in the middle of a rushing mountain stream sometimes. Like even though he isn’t doing anything, he’s still being eroded away, smoothed over, changing into something new without even realizing it.

Space is a lot to take in, even if it is mostly just a great black nothing.

He huffs out a single breath, feeling his panic over Keith’s recklessness return. He screws his eyes shut and scrubs at his face with the heels of his palms until he sees stars. What bothers him most, he muses, is that Keith is the one who thinks he’s incapable of being a leader, a hero - that the only thing he can do is be an agent for the Blade of Marmora. But when the other paladins need him, when it’s life or death, his first thought is to put himself in danger. Keith _is_ a good leader - even if he can only tap into it under high stress. And Lance… well, Lance has good aim. Lance can play Mario Kart with Pidge and lose every time. Lance can miss Keith terribly, and yet never ask him to stay.

Behind him, the doors to the deck slide open. Lance turns to see who it is, and his heart stutters.

“Oh,” Keith says. “I didn’t think there’d be anyone else here.”

Lance shrugs awkwardly. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Keith nods once. “I know how that feels.” He walks slowly to where Lance is sitting and gestures to the space next to him. “Can I sit?" 

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Keith drops to the floor impossibly close to Lance, yet not touching him at all. He’s still wearing the dark uniform of the Blade, the faint purple marks on the breastplate glowing eerily in the dark room. The hair on the back of his head is wet with sweat, and Lance reflexively rolls his eyes.

“Do you ever stop training?” he asks, scoffing. “It’s four in the morning.”

Unexpectedly, Lance watches Keith’s lips twitch into a half-grin, his eyes focused on the window. “You know I can’t. I have to be ready.”

“Ready for _what_ , though?” Lance says before he can stop himself.

Keith shrugs halfheartedly. “I don’t know. It’s not important, I guess.” He breathes in deeply, mulling over his next words. “I just have to be ready when the time comes.”

“But -” Lance starts. He doesn’t even know what he was planning on saying, just that he had to disagree with Keith.

Keith makes eye contact with him and Lance’s lungs stop working. He’s so ridiculously beautiful in the faint light, sweaty and mussed from fighting. Lance wants to peel him out of his uniform and lick the salt off his collarbones.

“I don’t expect you to understand,” Keith says, his voice low. “I need the Blade as much as they need me.” How did he know what Lance was talking about before Lance did?

“We need you too, you know,” Lance says.

“No, you don’t. You have Shiro. There’s no room for a sixth paladin, especially one with no lion.”

“I’m sure Red would take you back -”

“ _No._ ” Keith’s voice echoes in the small room. Lance stares at him, surprised at his vehemence. Keith frowns. “Sorry. But Red is _your_ lion now. This is how it’s supposed to be. I’m not a team player, I’m not a leader. I can’t even work in a team. I don’t belong here.”

Lance’s fists clench in his lap. “Look, if any of us doesn’t belong here, it’s me. I’m not _good_ at anything. You fly your ship into a cannon to save a hundred planets, and I just. I’m just Lance.”

Keith sputters, turning red with anger. “Are you kidding me? That’s _why_ I’m not a team player! A good leader shouldn’t sacrifice himself all the time. You know I’m too hotheaded to lead.”

“Yeah. Fine. You have anger issues.” Lance scowls. “But it just shows you care about us. And I’ve seen you with your sword, dude. I can’t even come close.”

“Well, I can’t aim for shit.”

“ _What are you talking about?_ ” Lance grits his teeth. “Yes, you can. I’ve seen you thread the needle with Red countless times. You’re an incredible pilot.”

“So are _you!_ ” Keith stands up and starts pacing about the room, gesturing wildly. “I know you, Lance. I know your confidence is an act. But it shouldn’t be, because you’re fucking incredible no matter which lion you fly.”

“But the Black Lion doesn’t think I’m worthy enough,” Lance mutters quietly, half-hoping Keith doesn’t hear him.

Keith rounds on him, grabbing the front of his t-shirt and pulling him to his feet. “Maybe it isn’t about being worthy enough, idiot.”

Lance stumbles backwards under Keith’s onslaught.

“Maybe it’s just about being what the team needs.” Keith jabs a finger in his face. “That’s what you’re always talking about, right? The team _,_ the team, the _team._ Maybe you’re more than enough for the Black Lion. Or _maybe_ ,” he snarls, “it’s just a sick cosmic _joke_.”

Lance’s back hits the window. Cornered, he feels a surge of _something_ overflowing his ribcage. “You know what’s the sickest joke of them all?” he growls, shoving Keith back. In the wan light of the room, Keith’s expression as he falls backward onto the ground gives Lance pause. His sneer cracks, and it almost looks like he’s waiting for Lance to yell at him, to rend his heart in two. Like he was riling Lance up on purpose, hoping he’d push Keith away.

The fight drains out of Lance immediately, now that he can see the truth. Keith puts his life on the line because he still feels like he needs to prove he’s not just some Garrison dropout. He actually thinks he doesn’t deserve the paladins’ warmth and friendship. This whole time, he’s been isolating himself because all he wants is to be part of a group he sees no room for himself in.

Keith is still on his back, staring at Lance warily. He’s waiting for Lance to finish. But Lance… can’t find his words. Keith looks so _small,_  so bare. He drops to his knees at Keith’s feet as Keith sits up, and _oh,_ now they’re so _close_. Keith’s chest is heaving, taking small, hitching breaths, as he looks at their feet (so close to being entangled).

Lance looks at his downturned face and sighs. “Hey,” he whispers.

Keith looks up.

“I wish you’d believe us when we say we need you,” Lance says in a rush. “With or without a lion.”

Keith wavers, surprised by Lance’s raw words.

“You know how we felt when Shiro was gone?” Now that Lance is talking, he can’t seem to stop. “Like a fundamental piece of us was missing?”

Keith catches on quickly. “You guys do _not_ miss me like that. I am _not_ a _fundamental_ _piece_ of the team.” His voice is weak.

“Keith, _I_ miss you like that. You’re a fundamental piece of _me_.” 

Lance watches Keith’s cheeks redden as he ducks his head. “ _Please,_ ” he whispers, and Lance doesn’t know if Keith is asking him to stop or keep talking.

Without realizing it, Lance is reaching for Keith’s hands, enveloping them in his own. Emboldened, he brings one to his lips briefly. Keith flushes further, looking up at Lance through his bangs. “Lance...”

Lance finds himself smiling softly. “What are you afraid of?”

Keith’s eyes catch on Lance’s lips, his own twitching into a grin. “You,” he says simply, before leaning in to kiss him.

It’s off center, and so incredibly chaste it immediately drives Lance mad. He hears himself whimper as he curls an arm around Keith’s neck and pulls him into his lap. Keith’s weight forces him to lean against the window, and Lance wonders deliriously how they might look, two lonely bodies gravitating toward each other in the dark, against a backdrop of stars.

Keith kisses like a drowning man, like Lance is his oxygen, and Lance can do nothing but drink him in, his hands in entangled in sweat-stiff, tangled, _perfect_ black hair. Keith’s hands are on his shoulders, his sides, his cheeks, _everywhere_ , and Lance cannot remember a time when he didn’t need this like air in his lungs. The fit of Keith’s lips against his is reprogramming his DNA.

Then Keith breaks away, panting like he’s been underwater his whole life and now he’s finally breathing. His chin rests on Lance’s shoulder, and it’s _perfect_.

“Say it now,” Keith breathes into his ear.

Lance shivers, mind blank. “I need you,” he says without thinking.

It’s the right response, because Keith kisses him again, hard enough to knock his head back against the reinforced glass. The _thud_ it makes shakes them both out of their trance.

“Sorry,” Keith says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. His hair sticks up everywhere, and Lance remembers that _he did that_.

“It’s okay,” Lance replies, smiling. “I like the enthusiasm.” He winks.

Keith rolls his eyes, but his voice betrays the grin he’s hiding. “Never change, man.”

Even as the weight of Keith’s warm body presses him into the window, Lance feels a heavier weight lift off his chest. “Will you stay?” he asks, even though he thinks he already knows the answer. 

Keith smiles.


End file.
